Passenger 15A
by Diabolicael
Summary: Sawyer is too good a character to not have a love interest, but i lathe Kate, so i made one up for him. there were 48 survivors from the front end of Oceanic Flight 815. This is just another one of them. hot jungle love, too! season 2 chapters added too!
1. Passenger 15A

She hated flying. She'd always hated flying. She knew one day she'd end up in a plane crash. Of course, in her version, the plane crashed into the ocean and then she was eaten by an Oceanic White-tip, but then, that's the kind of thing you are prone to think when you watch far too much discovery channel. Plane crashes, unseen monsters, daily thunderstorms… all this experience needed was a horde of zombies and it would be all her worst fears come to fruition. The likelihood of zombies showing up on the island were pretty slim, though. At least that's what she hoped.

The island reminded her of Florida, a place she viewed the way one might an abusive ex-boyfriend. Waxing nostalgia mixed with disgust and hatred. _We had our good times, but then he tried to kill me. _She did like the jungle though. Mostly for the solitude it afforded her. Because of the Monster, now most of the survivors preferred to stay out on the beach, where it was open and safe. For her, it was the lesser of two evils. A big, scary something that might show up and eat her, or a bunch of bored, chatty strangers who wanted to know her life story. At least the thing would only eat her once and be done with it.

She didn't like to talk about herself in the first place, and these people were complete strangers to her. Still, they blabbed on and on about their lives and what they had back home in the real world waiting for them. They would spout off all kinds of shit as if she were Dr. Phil there to lend a kind ear. She knew it was because they were all bored, and scared, which is a rather confusing combination that leads to people finding all manner of odd ways to relieve both feelings. And not everyone had a backgammon set, like the man who hunted the boar.

She also wasn't huge on the idea of everyone on the island knowing who she really was. Unlike that little, flippy British guy who spent the first week wandering around camp, singing Driveshaft's greatest hits. Thank Bob, he'd stopped, or things may have gotten ugly. She gave most credit for that development tho the pregnant girl, Claire.

She liked Claire. Occasionally the two would sit and talk, generally when Flippy Charlie would run off into the woods with some person or the other. Of course, them talking mostly meant Claire talking. She would go ramble about this and that, but it was never intrusive, not overly revealing about herself. Just nice chats. And then Claire would take a nap; being 100 years pregnant, as she was, made for one sleepy blonde. She hoped the woman was alright. Hoped she would find a way back to camp soon. Hoping was all she could do. And even that took a lot of effort.

Hurley was another of the few she could stomach speaking with. The big man never seemed to stand still. Always up to something. They'd met when he was doing his census of the survivors.

"Hey, look," he'd said, coming up to her while she was digging for shellfish a few feet from shore. "I know I don't really know you, but.. um.. that's kinda the point. We're just trying to figure out who everyone is, so.. like.. so we'll know."

"This is about Claire, right?"

"Uh… no. What do you know about it?"

She shook her head. "She told me someone tried to attack her. She is very upset that no one believes her… but obviously you believe her, or you wouldn't be doing this, would you?"

"Yeah… so, who are you?"

"Lina. Panevino."

"Italian. Nice. Great food, love the… leaning tower."

She laughed. "Right. We're all about the tower."

"Where from?"

"At present, Alaska."

"You're kidding."

"No, Alaska. Just outside Juneau. It's nice there, quiet."

"I bet, six months of night time. Yikes."

"It's not actually six months. It's an interesting experience, though, you should try it. Not enough people visit Alaska."

He nodded, scribbling in his notebook. "Reason for travel?"

"Work," she stated. "And I wanted to see Australia Zoo."

"Crocodile Hunter fan, that's cool," he said, seeming satisfied. "What's with the tattoo?"

She glanced at her left hand, where a small blue band encircled her ring finger, marked with black runes. She raised an eyebrow at Hurley.

"You ask everyone this kind of thing?"

"Just curious," he shrugged. She mimicked the motion.

"It's personal," she said, simply.

He nodded. "Right. Well, got about twenty more people to go, see you 'round."

Talking to Hurley was like talking to guys she'd known in High School, except with a heart of gold. If such a thing existed, Hurley was the proud owner. Not to mention, the man was hilarious on a regular basis. Laughter was a much needed, and scarce, commodity on the island, but anyone who socialized with the guy on a regular basis was never in short supply.

Mostly, tho, she would escape to the woods, and gather fruit, or wood, or just wander around aimlessly, climbing into trees and napping herself, to pass the time away. She was warned several times, by several people, including Chief Jack, the doctor, that she needed to wear shoes in the jungle, otherwise, any number of horrible consequences could follow. Spider bites, infected cuts, snakes, and general ickiness, to name a few. But she figured, if she could do it in Florida as a kid, she could do it here. She hadn't seen a single snake as of yet, anyway. Worst case: she'd die. And around here, that wasn't too bad a case at all really. Considering some of the other options. She hoped Claire was alright.


	2. Introductions

The sun shown in soft, but brilliant orange through the trees. It would go down within the hour, so Lina decided she should start to get back to the beach. She'd just bent down to pick up a nice sized log when she heard the sound of someone crashing through the underbrush off to her right. She looked up, and that big southern man was running Hell bent for leather towards her. He saw her and waved his arms, frantically gesturing her away.

"Run! Run!"

She only had time to drop her load of firewood, before he came up on her, and snatched her by the arm, jerking it harshly, and dragging her along with him.

"_Move!"_ he ordered. She struggled to keep up with his long-legged strides. In the trees behind them, she could hear the distinctive trumpeting of the thing that stalked the island. She felt and heard the trees being uprooted just behind them as they ran. Clods of dirt pelted her back.

"There!" The man hollered, shoving her left, into a small bamboo grove. He crowded in behind her, as she weaved between the stalks as fast as she could manage. He stepped on her heel, tripping her up, and she fell, knocking her shoulder on a rock. A big rock. He stepped over her, and bent to pull her to her feet. She caught his wrist.

"Look! There's an opening here!" She started to crawl into the hole, but he grabbed the waistband of her jeans to stop her.

"You crazy? You don't know what's in there!" He admonished.

"I know what's out here!" she countered. As if in response, the Monster cracked a few ten inch thick stalks of bamboo like they were uncooked pasta. She crawled into the opening with him hot on her heels.

After only a few cramped feet the tunnel opened into a modest cavern. Lina reached into her ever-present "Survival Pouch" and pulled out her for-emergencies-only flashlight. She crouched and surveyed the small cave. It was roughly round in shape, maybe 20 feet in diameter, and (as evidenced from the _thunk_ and following swear that came from just behind her) _almost_ tall enough for him to stand up straight in.

The bamboo outside suffered greatly as the thing kept tearing at it for a few more minutes before it went quiet.

"You think its gone?" she whispered.

"You're welcome to go take a look," he replied, skillfully tweaking his sarcasm so that the offer sounded almost sincere. She snorted. He smiled at her in the dim glow reflected by her flashlight beam on the rock cave walls.

"Thanks, I'll pass." Her sarcasm was no less well-honed than his. She turned away from him, going over the area with her light. Branches, large and small, and dead leaves littered the cave floor, but nothing seemed to move among them. She pointed the light up. A large crack ran along the ceiling, almost from wall to wall. She bent, picking up a medium sized piece of wood, and knocked it lightly against the rock face above her, listening for pebbles, or creaking, or any sign of instability. It seemed fairly solid.

"What the Hell are you doing?"

"Checking the ceiling," Lina told him. When he gave her a _Huh?_ look, instinctively, she dead-panned. "Don't worry about it. It's over your head."

"Funny."

She flicked off the flashlight, and a faint blue-gray glow could be seen along the crack. Okay. Flicking the light back on, she handed it to him.

"Could you clear out a space, here," she pointed at the floor, just to the left of him. "As big as you can."

"I could, but why would I?"

"The sun will be down soon, and I want to build a fire."

He made a little, "Ah" sound, and bent to his task. She started gathering and sorting the sticks and twigs. It was accomplished rather quickly, and now she sat in the middle of a cleared space that took up almost the whole floor of the cave, arranging twigs and leaves to make a base for the fire. He held the flashlight for her, and in a few more minutes a healthy little campfire was born.

Both sat staring at the flames for a short while, in silence. Lina knew many things about the man, but she didn't know him. They'd never actually met or spoken, except once on the plane when she had said, "Excuse me," as they'd passed in the isle each heading the opposite way to and from the bathroom. She remembered he'd smelled nice, but that was pretty much it. At least, she thought that was him. There had been another tallish blonde man on the plane; it could have been _him_. He'd been seated in the tail section of the plane.

Occasionally, she added wood to the fire. The smoke rose up and out, the crack in the ceiling making a perfect vent. She watched him across the flames, covertly, knowing he was not the kind of man who took kindly to being watched. He was idly shredding a palm frond with his nails, eyebrows drawn together in thought. Her stomach gurgled silently. Once again she thanked Bob for making her so obsessive compulsive and slightly schitzophrenic, if not for those tendencies, she wouldn't have had the things she did have in her carry-on, and she wouldn't have them now. She was either crazy, or psychic. She was never sure which one she preferred.

"You hungry?" she asked. He looked up from his revery.

"Yeah, you got something to eat?"

She nodded, rummaging around in her bag. She came up with two star fruits, and tossed him one across the fire. "Appetizer?"

"Thanks," he said. His voice held a hint of confusion, which she interpreted as a smidgeon of surprise. Whether he was surprised she had it on her, or surprised she'd offered it to him out of no where did not really concern her.

Lina set to pulling this and that out of her bag. She heard him shuffle across the floor as he moved to get a better look at what she was doing. Her simple tin mess kit clanged on the rock floor, followed by a bottle of water, more fruit, and a few packets made from the precious tin foil she'd had the presence of mind to keep when Hurley had handed out the remaining airplane meals. She heard him chuckle.

"You carry all that around with you? What, were you gonna run away and start your own civilization?"

"I like to be prepared," she said simply. "You never know when you might end up stranded with no food or water." She ended the sentence by gesturing with her hand at their current location.

"Well, ain't I lucky to be stranded with a girl scout," he sniped.

She answered with a simple, "Yup."

Opening the packets one by one, she revealed smoked boar meat, salted fish, and dried fruit slices. She opened the mess kit and separated the plate section from the frying pan section, dividing the meat and dried fruit between the two. She also filled the tin cup that came in the kit with water, and handed both over to the big blonde.

"Bon appetit," she said, dismissively, and started gnawing on her own tough piece of boar. He actually gave a little grunt of appreciation when he bit into the food.

"This tastes different than the stuff Locke cooks up," he said. She nodded. "How did you do this?"

Her first instinct was to toss out a nicely edged sarcastic reply, _ It was the meat fairy, haven't you seen her?_ But, she didn't know him, and didn't feel comfortable with the idea of possibly antagonizing him. Especially in such an enclosed space. So, she answered candidly.

"I make a paste out of fruit and some other plants and such, and brush it on before I smoke it. It's not difficult. Takes a while, but its not like I have anything better to do all day. Plus, the smell and smoke keeps people away."

"Not much of a people person, Specs?"

She ignored the nickname. She mused for a moment if he gave them to people, because he wasn't bright enough to remember their actual names. No, she thought she knew the real reason.

"Yes and no. This place… people are forced into familiarity, and I'm not well-forced in that way. I don't want to spend all day talking just to be talking."

"You spend a lot of time talking to the pregnant girl," he pointed out. She was taken aback a bit by the statement. But, then she reasoned, someone like him would keep a close eye on the people around him. Probably subconsciously.

"She only talks when she has something to say. Granted she has a lot to say, but its not just for the sake of saying it."

She wasn't sure why she was explaining herself to him, and hoped it wasn't just for the sake of explaining it. But he nodded, as though he understood, so she assumed he did. A few more moments passed, as they ate in silence. He handed her back his plate, and she filled his cup with more water.

"So, what's your name, anyway?" he asked.

"What, Specs not good enough?"

"No, Specs is fine, I'm just curious. Scared to tell me your name?"

She rolled her eyes. "Lina," she informed him. "And you're the one they call Sawyer."

"That's me," he proclaimed, flashing a grin with more teeth than a chain saw. She narrowed her eyes in a very cat-like manner.

"Scared to tell me your name?"

The grin vanished, replaced by that hard-eyed glare that might make you wet yourself in the bad way.

"How do you know it's not my real name?" Sawyer asked, between his teeth. Lina's gaze didn't waiver. You don't take your eyes off a viper that's ready to strike.

"The thing about a beach; there's no walls. You have to be careful. The wind can carry all kinds of things to uninvited ears."

She could almost hear his teeth grinding together as his jaw clenched.

"I'll have to remember that," he ground out. He continued to glare at her, she assumed he was trying to stare her down. Her instinctive, if not entirely wise, sense of defiance kicked in and she kept her eyes locked with his. _Just because you've got a hard edge, doesn't mean mine isn't just as hard,_ she said with her eyes.

"You do that," she said out loud. Then, she tilted her head back slightly, lifting an eyebrow in an arrogant, expectant manner. His jaw relaxed some, and his eyes narrowed, one side of his mouth quirking upward ever so slightly. _Alright, I got your number,_ the expression said.

"James," he told her. She was more than a little surprised he'd actually told her. The almost triumphant way his lips curved upwards told her that she had not been very successful in hiding her shock. Now, one might think he would give a fake name, just to gain the reaction, but he seemed more the kind of man who would give the real name, just to sharpen the edge.

She nodded, and looked away, busying herself with the mess kit and tin foil. He swallowed the rest of his water, and gave a satisfied "ahhh," then held his cup out to her to be refilled. She didn't have to look at his face to know he was smiling amusedly.

"So, what were you back in the real world? A cop, or a lawyer?" he asked, in a knowing tone. She shook her head.

"Neither, actually. I'm a writer."

"Writer? Really?" Sawyer's voice held surprised amusement. "Children's stories? The Happy Bunny Goes to Christmas Town?"

She couldn't help but laugh. "Not, quite. High school English text books."

"You're shitting me."

"No, I actually did write one of those last year. Mostly, I write brochures for hotels and resorts."

"That why you were down under?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

It wasn't exactly a lie. She wasn't sure if he could tell she was holding something back. He gave no indication that he didn't believe her.

Again, they lapsed into a companionable silence. The fire crackled and popped soothingly.

"The thing is gone, we should head back," Sawyer said, standing. Lina just looked up at him. Then, she laughed. He frowned down at her from way up there. "What's funny?"

"Head back."

"Yeah, head back. Back to the beach."

"Oh, yes. A romantic moonlight stroll, through the jungle. Sounds lovely," she laughed again, and gestured toward the cave opening. "Be my guest, Peaches."

"Peaches?" he repeated back to her, momentarily distracted. "What, 'that because of my accent?"

"No, just a stock nickname. I'd call you Jack, actually, if I didn't think it would offend you. Unlike _some_, I don't personalize my impersonals. But, anyway, you go on, have a nice… loooong walk. I'll just wait here till morning, thank you."

"Fine, you do that. I don't need to worry about people going through my stuff while I'm out here hiding in a damn hole in the ground."

"Good luck finding your way back. In the dark. I mean, I wasn't really paying attention to landmarks while I was running for my life, but I bet if you yell 'Marco' really loud, they'll yell 'Polo'."

"Shit," he said, running his fingers angrily through his hair. But it was in that annoyed, Southern drawl of his, so it came out more like: Shee-yit.

Lina, chuckled at him, and scooted a few feet back from the fire, she fluffed up her bag as though it were a feather pillow, and layed down. Sawyer huffed walked back to the other side of the fire, plopped down, and leaned back against the wall. She could head him grumbling quietly to himself.

"Night, Peaches," she said, sweetly.

"Ah, shut up."


	3. Careful, They Bite

Upon returning to the beach, Lina found that hanging around Sawyer actually helped in her efforts to keep people away from her. Those stubborn few who persisted in trying to socialize with her were easily discouraged. She simply kept an eye out for them coming towards her, and then headed in the direction of his tent.

He wasn't exactly pleased by the situation. After all, you can't be an outcast if people are always hanging around you. He grudgingly tolerated it, though, since she brought him more of the tasty boar "jerky" she kept a stash of. They didn't talk much, if at all when near each other. She would just stare at the ocean and think. She was a great thinker. She could sit for hours and just drift off in her own mind, while he read whatever book he was reading today, or napped. Or pretended to nap. She was sure sometimes that he was faking it. _Men are the laziest creatures on the planet,_ she would think. _Men, and rocks._

They hadn't spoken for a few days. Lina was spending a lot of time with Claire and Charlie, who it seems was not at all fond of the nickname "Flippy"; that Claire had called him a couple times for no particular reason. It had taken Lina a good five minutes to stop laughing.

Claire did not remember anything, though occasionally, bits could come back to her. Every time she remembered something, Lina could see the hope glimmer in Charlie's eyes. It was sweet. Now that Claire was back, safe and sound, Lina didn't didn't have to hope for that; so she mostly hoped for Claire to remember how much Charlie had meant to her before she'd been snatched. They made a cute couple. Odd, but cute.

Spending more time hanging about the caves, Lina also got the chance to get to know Sun. She was a nice woman; quiet. Thoughtful. She felt bad for her and her husband, though she didn't know the whole story behind them. She, Lina, hated gardening, but was much interested in the herbology Sun knew so much about. Back in the real world, she'd done most of her studying on such topics via the internet. She found it was a much better experience with an actual person. Even if that person spoke no English.

Someone she found she had much in common with was Walt. The boy was something else once you got to know him. Too many people on the island treated him like a child, a five-year-old. Walt took to her right away. Back in the real world, Lina had learned the secret to kids from caring for her own young cousins. Pay attention.

If someone would explain that to the boy's father, his life would get much easier. Walt definitely had a gift, even if he wasn't aware of it, yet.

He told her that he'd decided he liked her after they'd had a two hour discussion on the various super-ness of super heros. Walt had some crazy notions when it came to what made a super hero super, and Lina was seriously going to have to re-educate the boy. Aquaman and The Flash. Ha!

She was seriously thinking of relocating to the caves permanently. Sawyer had scoffed at the notion, asking why she wanted to give up all the personal freedom of the beach. She wasn't sure if it was an encouragement or a discouragement when he told her, in an indefinable tone, "Then, I won't have anyone to bother me."

So, everyday she made the trek to the caves, like she was making a morning commute to work, and then back to the beach. Occasionally, Michael allowed Walt to head back and forth with her. She thought it was mostly because she agreed with him that she didn't totally trust Locke. Men are simple like that. So are rocks.

She'd returned to the beach just in time to see Sawyer head off into the woods with the woman, Kate. She shook her head. Sometimes rocks are smarter than men.

---

"You're going to ruin your eyes."

Sawyer looked up from the book he was reading. "Need something?"

Lina gave him an amused half-smile. "No, your prices are too steep. I brought you a house re-warming gift." She dropped a bottle of water at his feet. "Matzeltov!"

"Darn, I was hoping for some more of that boar meat you cook so well, Emeril," he quipped, going back to his book.

"Emeril is a man, Peaches."

"Peaches are a fruit, Specs."

"So are you," she countered. True, it was rather infantile, but she wasn't in the mood to trade witticisms with this man. "If you want boar meat, maybe you should go on another boar hunt. Oh, wait. No, that won't work; you don't bring back any boar."

"Are you… mad at me? For not bringing home the bacon?" he actually laughed. She rolled her eyes.

"I'm annoyed that you expect everything to just drop at your feet," she told him. Sawyer glanced purposely down at his feet, where she had dropped the bottle of water just a moment before. She made a disgusted sound. "You know what I mean. Ass."

He threw his head back and laughed this time. "Wow, you were really looking forward to that boar, weren't you, Specs?"

"No, I just feel that, if _you_ really wanted boar, you should have actually gone and hunted one," she said. She should leave. She sounded way too angry about the whole thing. Unreasonably angry, for her argument. She started off down the beach, away from the camp. She heard him slap his hand on his thigh and knew he was watching her go, with that shit-eating grin on his lips. Laughing at her back.

She was so shocked when a hand grabbed her arm that she almost lost her balance on the soft beach sand.

"Are you _jealous_?" His tone, face, and eyes conveyed nothing short of genuine astonishment. She gave him an _oh please!_ look.

"I'm not jealous, you egomaniac. Just annoyed."

"That I went off in the jungle with Kate. Alone. Annoyed, but not jealous? Come on, Specs."

"Get over yourself, Peaches. I'm not annoyed because you went off in the woods with a woman, and you expect everyone to think you were hunting boar."

"I _was_ hunting a boar," he insisted.

She shook her head, trying in vain to pull her arm from his grasp. "Whatever, that's not the point. I'm not annoyed on a personal level, I'm annoyed on a sociological level."

"Come again?"

"I find it annoying that people like you don't have the good sense to not drive the wrong way down a one way street."

"Meaning, what, Dr. Phil?"

She set her stance and looked him right in the eye. "You spend all your time, chasing the one person on this island whose actually _more_ fucked up than you are. Shit, the plane crash is a metaphor for your entire adult life! The only difference is, the plane doesn't set out to crash on purpose."

"You don't know shit about me-"

"I know more about you than either of us is happy about, _Mr. Sawyer_."

His eyes lit with realization and grew dark with rage," You read my letter."

It wasn't a question, but she answered anyway. "And, occasionally, you talk in your sleep. Or didn't Kate mention that to you?"

He released her arm with a flinging motion, and she lost her balance. She ended up sitting down in the sand, looking up at his eyes; dark, cold steel. He really looked like he wanted to hit her.

"Keep away," was all he said, before storming off back toward his tent.


	4. Steaming Rolling Potter

So, she kept away. She told herself he suffered more for it than she did, but then he was all about suffering wasn't he? He was the biggest masochist she'd ever seen. Not only that, he was borderline suicidal as well. The raft. The idea filled her with hope, just as it did the others, but she worried about the people on board.

She worried about Walt a lot, he was just a boy, and had already been through so much. Even if they…when they found a ship, it would be a harrowing experience for the kid. Hadn't he had enough of those? She wanted to tell Michael, that if he left Walt behind, she would take care of him, but she knew he would refuse. She understood why, and respected it. Which is why she didn't ask, but that didn't make her feel any better about the situation. She worried about Jin, for Sun.

She worried about Sawyer, because she did it often anyway, and he didn't even know how to sail! The man was so determined to put himself in harm's way, he might just jump off the boat to catch a shark or something.

Lina did a lot of worrying. She worried about Locke. She didn't think the Others had burned the raft. She wasn't sure who did, but she felt that he was hiding something. He was always hiding something. From the first day on the island she'd known he was hiding _something._ What he was hiding, that was still a mystery to her.

As if that wasn't bad enough, Hurely ran off into the jungle after the crazy French woman who tortured Sayid. She'd wanted to go along to find him, but Charlie asked her to stay and keep an eye on Claire. Of course, then Claire had gone off with Locke, and she'd ended up alone, sitting in the sand, burying her feet and worrying.

Everyone returned home, safe and sound. She'd listened to Hurley's story about his 157 million dollars, and the hexed numbers that landed him on the island.

"Wow… that sucks," was all she could come up with. He nodded.

"Yup."

"I would have bought my mom a house, too."

"Yeah, I think most people decide to buy their mom a house."

"Moms need houses."

The absurdity of the statement struck them both, and it was a good while before they'd regained their composer. She felt better after that talk with Hurley, somehow.

---

"Better, or worse?"

An annoyed sigh. "Worse."

"We've been through all of them twice, Sawyer, I guess you're just going to have to read less," Jack said, defeated. Sawyer pulled the glasses, which looked like something that had once belonged to an 80 year old grandma, and tossed them in the box.

"Gee, thanks, Doc. Sure saved me a lot of trouble."

"Sawyer," Kate began, in a motherly tone. Both men looked at her with exasperated expressions, and she didn't finish the statement.

On the other side of the cave, Walt was attempting to teach Lina to play backgammon. It wasn't successful thus far. She watched as Sawyer reached into the box of glasses and pulled out another pair. Giant, black, and cartoony, Lina couldn't help but laugh.

"I like those," she told Walt, who looked over, and laughed, too.

"Better or worse?" Jack asked again.

"Jeezus, man! At this point I'm having trouble remembering," Sawyer exclaimed.

"Why can't he see with any of them?" Walt asked. Lina shrugged.

"He probably can, but only with one eye. See, one eye can be weaker than the other, so you need lenses with different prescriptions. If not, the bad eye, makes the good eye seem blurry, too."

"So, why doesn't Jack check his eyes one at a time?"

Lina winked conspiratorially. "Because, sometimes people don't see what's right in front of them… Like Sawyer."

Walt giggled. "Why don't you go ask him?" she nudged.

"Grown-ups get mad when I ask a lot of questions," the boy replied. Lina smiled, reassuringly.

"Trust me, they won't get mad this time. Go on."

So, the boy hopped up, and jogged over to the group of adults. When he asked, Jack chuckled in a self-depreciating manner, patting the boy on the shoulder. Kate beamed at him, and asked how he'd gotten so smart. Sawyer, on the other hand, looked over at Lina. His expression was a mixture of question and accusation. It only lasted a moment, lest he draw the attention of the others. Lina felt a bit of loss when he looked away. Like she'd forgotten that she missed his eyes until that moment reminded her.

Eh, that was fluffy nonsense. She shook it off, almost fully successfully. When Jack charged Walt with the task of taking the two pairs of glasses that were needed to make Sawyer's one pair to Sayid on the beach, she followed him out of the cave. The boy was thrilled. Ah, to be ten, and so easily boosted. If he had been fifteen, he would have been annoyed at the idea that he had to do some work, even if it was only walking from point A to point B.


	5. I'm a Complex Guy, Sweetheart

Boone was dead. Dead. Deceased. He had ceased to be.

Lina was still having trouble wrapping her head around it. She hadn't known Boone much at all. Hadn't very much liked his sister, if that was any indication. The idea that he was dead, finished… it was hard to bear. He'd survived the crash of a fucking jet-liner, only to die in a 20-foot fall in a Sesna? Bob had a Hell of a sense of humor. She felt sick.

She could feel the grief of the entire camp pressing in on her. She was shocked, saddened, and depressed by the whole thing, but this level of sorrow was not hers. She had to get out, had to get away from them all and find someplace to breathe.

She set off down the beach, away from the funeral, away from all the people gathered on the hill. _I'm sorry, Boone. I know I owe you some respect here, but I can't handle this._

She walked and walked until the only thing she could see of the camp was the smoke from Sayid's eternal signal fire. She sat in the sand, and stared at the ocean. She tried to let the sorrow of the people she'd been standing with go, like it was being washed out with the waves. She felt the peace that comes only to those who can't stop grieving. It's like the silt resting on the bottom of a pond. Calm, for the moment, but oh so unstable. Any little movement could send it into chaos again.

She didn't hear him coming, and when he spoke, she jumped in her skin.

"This really ain't the time to be off on your own."

She didn't answer. Her throat still felt too tight to safely speak.

"With everyone worked up, as they are, y'shouldn't leave without telling someone. Might set the whole place to worrying."

She swallowed hard, wanting to say something to make him leave, but couldn't make the words come out.

"People even wanted to know where _I _was going."

"Go away," she finally forced out. She wouldn't look at him; kept her eyes trained on the waves breaking just off shore.

"If I did that, it would make me a liar," he admonished.

"What do you want? You told me to keep away, so I did. Why are you here?"

"I told you, it's not the time for you to go off alone," he reminded her, plopping down beside her in the sand. "Didn't even bring your girl scout pack."

"I want to be alone."

"Yeah, I gathered that from the way you walked away, all by yourself, like that. I figured you were coming out here all alone to sit and stare at the ocean. Probably have a cry. Damn, you're such a girly girl, Specs."

She felt the lump in her throat growing, but somehow the more he talked the less horrible she felt, as if the crushing sorrow was actually lifting this time, instead f her pretending it was.

"You're the last person on this island who should be calling anyone 'Specs'," she said, in a water voice.

"Don't I know it? But I'm man enough to wear those hideous things, and it don't bruise my ego one little bit."

"And I wasn't coming out here to cry," she insisted, even though she was beginning to cry as she said it. He reached over, and patted the middle of her back, soothingly.

"Oh, I know, I know. You just got a little sand in your eye, that's all," he said, sagely. "I'll just sit here with ya till you get that pesky stuff out."

She gave a sobbing laugh and leaned her head on his shoulder and he wrapped his arm around hers.

"I'm not a big cryer," she informed him, as her tears wet his shirt.

" 'Course not. I bet you never cried a day in your life. How's that sand coming?"

He actually sat there with her. While she cried on his shoulder, literally. Rubbing her arm, and keeping firm hold on her shoulders the entire episode. When she'd finally cried herself out, eight years later, he handed her a rag and called it a handkerchief.

As they walked back to the camp together, he purposely shortened his long strides for her sake. She wondered why he'd done it. She knew he had the capacity for the kind of kindness he'd shown her today, but she had no idea he had the inclination to use it. The only thing he'd ever seemed to want was to be hated, and be in pain, in one form or another. The only conclusion she could come up with was that… he just wanted to be the good guy for a change.

It didn't even stop there. She was floored when she came back to the beach, after heading to the caves to see Sun about maybe finding some kind of tea leaf to be found on the island. Sawyer and Charlie, and Claire's little baby, huddled together, thick as thieves. He read the car magazine like it was a bed-time story. The way he looked at the infant made her breath catch in her throat for a moment, and she wondered if it was possible to fall for someone like Sawyer. If he gave you the chance.

So, they were really leaving. It was supposed to fill everyone with hope that they were heading out to get them all rescued. For Lina, thought, it all seemed so crushingly final. Like when you graduate high school, and all your friends tell you they'll keep in touch, but really they won't, and you all know that.

She felt kind of ill, and hated good-byes, but she helped shove the raft down to the water, along with everyone else. She saw Kate and Sawyer trading glances.

She hadn't spoken to Sawyer in the last few days. He hadn't had the time, working on the raft as he and the other two were. Also, there was the fugitive Kate drama.

That genuinely shocked Lina. Not so much that Kate was the one with the air Marshall, she'd seen her sitting next to the man on the plane. She hadn't mentioned it beforehand because, so long as Kate wasn't some homicidal maniac, she didn't think she could do much harm on a deserted, jungle island. Sawyer had already snagged everything not nailed down, what could she steal? What shocked her, was the way Sawyer had exposed her to everyone. Even rocks had their limit, she guessed.

But now they were going. This very morning. She debated whether she should give a quick good-bye now, and leave the beach, before they actually set off, and everyone got all teary. And then the mast broke, and all the plans were sent into upheaval. Could _nothing_ go as planned on the island, or did everything have to crash at least once?

She watched Sawyer offer to help with the repairs, but when Michael refused him, he stalked off into the jungle to sulk. Charlie came around, carrying a wine bottle, offering up slips of paper to anyone who wanted a message to go out with the boat. She took one, and sat down, trying to figure out what she wanted to write.

She had no one to write to, actually. Yeah, she had relatives, cousins, aunts and uncles, that kind of thing. She didn't really expect any of them to be too worried about her. She'd been pretty much disowned when she gave up the family religion. It was ridiculous, but they somehow looked at her desertion of organized faith as a betrayal of the family. Her parents had died of shock after eating bad seafood. _Seafood _killed her parents, if that's not a bad made-for-tv movie, she didn't know what was. Maybe Locke was right, maybe a big slice of fate landed them all on the island.

She mused that, when they all got back to the real world, she could write a book about her stay on the island. Maybe they'd make a movie about it. She chuckled, shaking her head. _Yeah, right. Stranded on a deserted island. I liked the idea better the first time, when it was called Swiss Family Robinson. Robinson Crusoe… Shipwrecked… Castaway…_

A thought struck her, and she smiled, putting pen to paper. In a moment she'd scribbled out a note that was moderately legible, and rolled it up. It took her a few minutes to find Charlie, and his bottle. She looked over at the raft to see how they were progressing in the repairs. They were just finishing the rudder, soon they'd be ready to cast off. That's when she noticed Sawyer had not returned. If he wasn't back soon, she knew Michael; they might just leave without him. Knowing how much getting off the island meant to him, she started off into the jungle, to see if she could find him.


	6. Branded

sheesh, getting feedback is like pulling teeth around this place. come on people, im a starving artist here! feed me back, lol. anyway, this is the BIG chappy, so savor it slowly. there is one more, but you all know this is what youve been waiting for. bon apetite!

Not too far from the caves she heard a loud knocking coming from deeper in. She followed the sound, curious. Those Others were supposed to be coming after them any time now. She crept quietly through the trees, homing in on the sound. Just as she was about to reach the area where the noise was coming from, it stopped. She paused, listening. A moment later she heard Jack's voice. Her breath went out in a relieved whoosh. Then, came Sawyer's voice. Even better. She continued on towards the men. After a few paces, she could hear what they were saying.

"So, I guess this is pretty much good-bye, then."

"Yeah, I guess it is… Good luck, Sawyer."

She moved passed a big palmetto, and could finally see them. Jack started away, but Sawyer called him back.

"Jack!"

The doctor turned, and walked back a few steps. Sawyer scooped up his shirt, and pulled it on.

"About a week before we all got on the plane, got to talkin' with this man in a bar in Sydney. He was American, too. Doctor.

"I been on some benders in my time, but this guy.. he was goin' for an all-time record. It turns out, this guy has a son; son's a doctor, too. They had some kind of big time fallin' out. The guy knew it was his fault, even though his son was back in the states, thinkin' the same damn thing. See, kids are like dogs: you knock 'em around enough, they'll think they did something to deserve it.

"Anyway, there's a pay phone in this bar, and this guy… Christian. Tells me he wishes he had the stones to pick up the phone and call his kid… tell him he's sorry. That he's a better doctor than he'll ever be. He's proud… And he loves him."

Jack looked like he was going to drop to his knees right there. Lina's own legs felt weak. Her mouth actually hung open, but she didn't breathe. Sawyer's eyes were so full of compassion. There was such raw emotion there, she wouldn't have believe that he'd ever have volunteered it willingly.

"I had to take off, but… Somethin' tells me, he never got around to makin' that call. Small world, huh?"

Jack nodded, struggling to pull himself together. "Yeah."

"Good luck, Jack."

As Jack left, she watched Sawyer swipe his sleeve across his forehead and eyes, in what may very well have been an attempt to clear the sweat away. She realized that, yes, there was a _very _good chance you could fall for a man like Sawyer, if he let you. Whether he knew he was letting you, or not.

Lina knew Sawyer believed, either way, this was the last time he would see Jack. So, he felt safe in opening himself like that, knowing he would never have to deal with the consequences of someone knowing he was really a human being under all his thorns.

She felt very sure, in that moment, that she would never see him again herself. The way her heart felt layed open, as it did, she wanted more than just a good-bye on the beach. Maybe it wasn't the most rational way of thinking, but the fact that she would never see the man again propelled her into the most rash decision she'd ever made in her life. Both because she would never _get_ to see him again, and that she would never _have_ to see him again. The duality of the thought would have disgusted her at any other time, but at this moment, all she wanted was something to keep, to remember him, just as she saw him now; before he left and turned back into the person he was before he came to the island.

Sawyer looked up when she came upon his little clearing. When he saw her face, his expression instantly concerned.

"What's wrong?" he asked, coming towards her. "What happened?"

"Nothing's wrong, I-" she began, but he cut her off, taking hold of her shoulders.

"If nothin's wrong, why do you look like someone just died?" he demanded.

"Look, I know you're leaving, and there's-"

Again, he cut her off. "You're trying to talk me into staying?"

"No, I'm not!" she said, quickly. "I know there's no reason for you to stay. I-"

"No walls on the beach, again?" he growled, releasing her. She made a sound of frustration.

"Shut up and let me talk!"

He raised his eyebrows at her shout, but said nothing. He gestured for her to go ahead, glaring at her with narrowed eyes.

"It's true, I don't want you to go, but I know you won't stay. I don't want you to stay."

"Yeah, that makes a whole lotta sense."

"I just want something before you leave," she admitted, her mouth dry as a desert.

"What, then? I gave most of that crap to the Doc already," He said, annoyed, bending to pick up the end of the bamboo log he'd just cut. "You know where the rest is. Go! Take whatever you want. I don't need it."

Lina stepped on the wood, knocking it from his hands.

"Whatever you got to say, you'd best get if off your chest before you piss me off, girl," he warned. She lunged forward (lunging is the only way to describe it) and he was so surprised, he actually took a step back. She caught his shirt with one hand, and the other cupped the back of his head, pulling his face down toward her. In for a penny, in for a pound, she quickly pressed her lips to his, fully expecting him to pull away and tell her she was crazy. He didn't.

Instead, his arms came around her with crushing force, pulling her body against his. He tilted his head, forcing his tongue deep into her mouth. Sawyer tasted like starfruit and Marlboro. Somehow, that made her want more. Her fingers threaded into his hair, and pulled, urging him closer, harder. He growled into her mouth. Her other hand was trapped between their bodies, her fingernails digging into his shirt.

Sawyer leaned forward, putting her off balance, and then sank to the ground, pushing her down before him. The leaf litter softened the jungle floor, but sticks and twigs still poked her in the back and legs, here and there. She didn't care. They could have been on a bed of hot coals, and she wouldn't have felt it. Inevitably, he broke the kiss, breathing hard onto her lips.

"Jesus," he panted. He tried to pull back, but she tugged his hair

"Don't stop," she said, her voice pleading in a way she'd never heard before.

"Oh, I don't plan to, it's just I wish you'd picked a better time for this. I generally like to take things a little slower," he drawled. She squirmed impatiently under his weight. It made him chuckle. She tried to pull him into another kiss, but he wasn't having it.

"Just tell me why," he demanded, softly. "Why me; why now? Is this gonna be you're dirty little secret?"

"You know its not like that," she insisted.

"Just want somethin' to remember old Sawyer by, in case he don't come back?" The question had an almost concealed bitterness to it.

"It's more than that, and we both know you're not coming back," she said, quietly. It hurt to say it out loud like that. It sounded too real. He leaned close enough to kiss, and looked hard into her eyes.

"What if I do?" he challenged.

Her gaze didn't waiver. Words came out of her mouth that she had not intended, but they were true none the less.

"That's a chance I'm willing to take."

It sounded ambiguous, but she knew that he knew exactly what she meant. _He _was a chance she was willing to take. She didn't know what he thought of her answer, though. He didn't say anything. Not even a snide remark to get the last word.

His mouth descended on hers hungrily. Suddenly, his hands were everywhere. One found its way under her shirt, while the other slid down over the front of her shorts. All she seemed to want to do was pull him closer, impossibly close. She wanted him to engulf her, somehow. He pulled away, rocking back on his knees, and, ignoring the buttons, tore his shirt over the top of his head. She made an odd hiccuping sound upon seeing all that skin and muscle. He, apparently, found it amusing.

He covered her with his body again, his mouth finding her neck this time. Those silver teeth sent shivers down her spine. His skin was like fire under her hands, soft; solid muscled slid beneath her touch. How he could be so soft, and so hard at the same time, like a velvet bag of river rocks, eluded her. He tugged her shirt up, hands hot and rough on her tender skin. Sliding away, his mouth found her stomach, placing one hot kiss there, before busying itself a bit higher up.

Leaning to one side, he easily popped the button on her shorts, tugging the zipper down, and slid his hand inside. She bucked at his touch there, a gasping moan curling from her throat of its own accord. His mouth was on hers again, swallowing her whimpers.

"Look at me," he ordered, against her lips. She looked up into his eyes, as his fingers invaded her. The lust she saw there, or the sensation he caused, set her stumbling into orgasm. Her eyes squeezed closed involuntarily, and her back arched towards him. When she opened her eyes again, heart beating madly, he was smiling at her smugly.

"Appetizer?" The way he said it made the word sound indecent. It made her stomach quiver. He ran just the tips of his fingers down her legs, and back up, in a way that was somehow electric. "Stand up," he commanded.

She stood. Sawyer remained kneeling, and looked up at her devilishly as he tugged her shorts down. She stepped out of them, and fought the urge to cover herself as he looked her over. Her hands were in fists at her sides. He played his fingers over the pale skin of her thighs and hips. Her stomach clenched when he blew on her belly, then leaned closer. When his tongue darted out to lick the inside of her thigh, her legs gave out. He steadied her with strong hands on her hips, easing her down onto his lap. The coarseness of his jeans against her sensitive skin was an amazing sensation.

"Arms up," he told her and, when she complied, he pulled her shirt up and off. His skin burned hers, and she couldn't get enough. He pushed her hips back a bit, and then took her hands, placing them on the waist of his jeans. She hesitated, swallowing hard.

"Go on," he coaxed, softly. Her hands shook ever so slightly as she unbuttoned and unzipped. She knew what she was to do next, but somehow, could not make her hand move. Sawyer took her hand, and guided where he wanted it to go. When she felt the throbbing pulse, she wrapped her hand around it.

He hissed between his teeth. He squirmed a bit, trying to push his jeans down without tossing her off his lap. They managed well enough. Lina could not take her eyes off it. Not that she had never seen one before, but this was obviously different. This was Sawyer, and he would be inside her. Transfixed by the way the muscles twitched in her hand, she caressed him slowly, almost reverently. He moaned, his head falling forward to rest against hers. She gripped him again, and started to run her hand up the length of him. He growled and caught her wrist.

"Careful, or you'll ruin the finale," he warned, pulling her hands away. He pulled her hips closer and sought her mouth again, teasing her lips with his tongue. He slid his hand between them to position himself, and then lifted his hips, entering her. "Fuck!"

She gasped, clinging to his shoulders, as he slid in. The twinge of pain made her gasp again. His hands tightened on her hips harshly.

"What- Are you fucking _kidding_ me!" he ground out, between clenched teeth.

"James," she began. His eyes were full of lust and shock.

"Aren't you, like, 25?" he demanded.

"Twenty-three," she corrected, pathetically.

"Still!" He exclaimed. "I don't fucking _believe_ this!"

"I'm sorry!"she whined. What did he want from her? She was a non-people person who wrote hotel brochures and English text books for a living!

"You should have told me," he reprimanded.

"You wouldn't have-" she began. He made a sound of frustration.

"I don't want to hurt you!" His tone was pleading, as if he was asking her to make it not true. Blue eyes begged her for something she didn't understand

Lina took his face in her hands, and slowly arched her hips, trying to impale herself upon him.

"Don't," he warned, but she ignored it. One hand slipped down, between them. She dragged her nails over his stomach, and felt him twitch inside her. Her hand slid around to the small of his back, so she could gain leverage and increase her downward force. She leaned in and gently bit his bottom lip. Suddenly, he surged upward, tearing into her fully. Baptism by fire. The pain made her cry out.

"I'm sorry," he gasped.

"Don't you dare apologize for this," she commanded, and silenced him with her mouth. She arched against him again, and he began to move within her. It took her a few moments to match his rhythm. It was glorious. It was like the plane crash all over again, only she was crashing upwards. She wondered briefly if she could touch God. Then, Sawyer reached down and began to caress her, and she did.

She sobbed, and screamed, and cried his name. His real name, James. And when his thrusts became erratic and he tried to pull away, she held on tighter, not letting him, and felt him explode inside her. Then, she was floating back down, vaguely aware that she was crying quietly into his neck. He finally engulfed her, and she sank into oblivion.


	7. Once More into the Breech

yes, unfortunately, this IS the last ready-made chapter. i DO plan to try to do is write new chapters as the second season goes on... but ill have to play that by ear. hopefully, itll work out.

---

Lina awoke to find herself alone, dressed, laying on the jungle floor. The sun was still high, it couldn't have been too much later than when she'd gone looking for Sawyer. For a moment she frantically wondered if she'd dreamed the whole thing. Those fears were put to rest the moment she tried to stand, and felt the aching tenderness between her legs.

She rushed back towards the beach, praying that she hadn't missed the launch. When she saw the newly repaired mast of the raft, she almost fell to the ground with relief, but she didn't have time to waste, they could be putting to sea this very second.

She burst out of the jungle to find everyone milling around the raft, exchanging hugs and handshakes. Sawyer stood slightly off to one side, trying to look busy with the rudder. He glanced towards the jungle, face drawn with longing. He saw her, and dropped whatever he'd been holding. She raced down the sand towards him. When she was almost to him, he actually looked afraid. She guessed he suddenly worried what she might say there, in front of everyone, about leaving her in the jungle after they'd made love. And, oh yes, she knew it was making love.

She threw herself into him, wrapping her arms around his neck, clinging as if her life depended on it. He held on tight, as well, his face buried in the crook of her neck.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"You should be," she whispered back.

"I didn't want to see you regret what happened."

"I'll never regret what happened."

He sighed. "I could stay," he said.

"You could, but we both know you won't."

"Yeah…"

"I'll be here when you get back," she promised. He gave her a squeeze, and pulled away, wiping quickly at his eyes.

"Okay," Michael said. "Let's get this baby in the water."

A cheer went up in the crowd. Walt rushed over and gave her a quick hug before climbing on board. A few moments later, she was standing on the beach, watching the boat drift away. Trying not to cry too obviously.

Claire came up to stand next to her. All too soon the boat was just a speck on the vast blue-green ocean.

"He'll be okay," she said, reassuringly.

"I'm that obvious?"

The blonde woman smiled. "You're standing alone, on a beach, watching a dot disappear."

Lina, shrugged. So, she was that obvious. "You really think they'll be okay?"

"If, after all this, _I'm _still okay?" she said, smiling. "They'll be fine."

"I hope you're right."

"He can't see you anymore, Lina," Clair told her. "Come on. Charlie has a new song he wants someone to hear."

Lina sighed, and let herself be lead away from the launch site.

"So, Charlie said you sent out a letter in the bottle, too. Was it to your family?"

Lina smiled, laughing quietly. "No, it was to James."

"James? Boyfriend?" Claire said confused. Lina nodded.

"Something like that."

"You didn't dump him by message-in-a-bottle, did you?"

Lina grinned, shaking her head. "No, no. Nothing like that. Let me explain."

"Please do."

"I hope you didn't put anything too personal in your letter…"

---

On the raft, Sawyer demanded. "Who the Hell is Hugo and why is he leaving his mom 157 million bucks!"

"You shouldn't read other people's letters," Walt admonished. "how would you like it if someone read your letters?"

"Only letter I ever wrote was to the man I'm gonna kill."

"Why are you gonna kill him?"

" 'Cause he deserves it."

He tipped the bottle, and extracted another rolled up note. Suddenly, he burst out laughing. The others looked at him, disgusted, and then ignored him. Once he'd finished with this last note, he folded it up and put it in his pocket, sliding the other letters back into the bottle and corking it. He saw Walt watching him, and flashed his pearly whites.

"Don't worry kid, that one was for me."

_Dear Peaches,_

_Stop reading everyone's letters, you nosey bastard!_

_By the time you read this, you'll already be gone, and wont be able to argue with me about it. Don't piss off anyone on the raft and get yourself thrown overboard. You might not want to hear it, but there is someone back here who would be very upset to hear something happened to you. But enough about Arzt._

_Be safe. I'm serious. There might not be anything on this island worth staying safe for, but the world is a lot bigger than this stupid island, and its a lot bigger than you! I'm sure there's something out there for you, other than that damned letter you carry around._

_And don't think for a minute that I'll ever forget you, cause you're out of luck buddy. I'll be here when you get back. Whenever that is._

_p.s. bring chocolate with you._

_Sloppy Kisses,_

_Lina_


	8. Fright Night

Here it is, first cahpter of season two. i wish more had happened tonight so id have more to go on for next week, but i guess ill have to wing it for the next chapter. its not much, but then, all i have to go on is one night. hope you like it. r&r as always. please feedback the writers lol.

Lina hated the caves. It wasn't so much the caves themselves that she hated, it was the way everyone was crowded into them, milling around like ants. Never one for crowds, she felt like she couldn't breathe. She found a little nook set into the rock face and sat in it, trying to separate herself from the crush of people. She'd rather have been outside, but she'd promised Claire she wouldn't leave the caves. Also, she was rather certain that, if the Others _did _show up, sitting outside alone was probably not the best idea.As worried as she was for Sawyer, and the others, out there on the raft, atleast they were safe from whoever was on the island.

Everyone was arguing, everyone was scared. She heard Shannon yelling something about Walt in the forest. She stood, and tried to shove her way through the crowd, panic fluttering in her chest. If Walt was in the woods, something had happened to the raft. She could not get close enough to even _see_ Shannon, let alone try to question her about what she'd seen in the woods. Shannon was arguing with Charlie.

"There _are no Others!"_ he yelled. Lina felt her brian go numb for a moment at that statement. She sheer ridiculousness of it astounded her. No Others? She was about to shout her outrage to Charlie, but Jack piped up and ordered everyone quiet. Her interest in what they had been doing the whole day took precidence over her anger with Charlie's idiocy.

"Locke found a hatch in the woods. We tried to open it, thinking we could all hide in there, but now that won't work. There's no way to get everyone in there tonight. We'll stay here, we'll be safe. We've got four guns, we'll post look-outs at all the entrances. We'll wait for the sun to come up, together."

When he was finished, everyone went back to milling about, and murming in fear and speculation. _What the fuck is a "hatch" doing in the middle of the jungle!_ She thought.

Charlie volunteered to stand watch at one of the entrances.That was a shocker. The man always seemed to be trying to get his hands on a gun. He had some serious control issues, that's for certain. She didn't blame him though, if any place could send you tetering on the edge, it was this island.

"Charlie?" she called softly, as she approached him, so as not to startle the man.

"Lina, hey." He wiped sweat from his forehead. "What's going on? Is Claire-"

"Claire is fine, Charlie. The baby is fine. I came to ask you a question, actually."

"Oh?"

"Yeah… are you out of your flippy, little mind?" The words were harsh, but she said it softly, so no one else could over-hear. He blinked rapidly in surprise.

"What?"

"You said, rather loudly, that there are no Others. Are you out of your mind?" she reiterated.

"Look, that crazy-"

"I know, I know. Can't trust the crazy French lady. That's exactly my point. You of all people know that there are other people on this island. They may not be coming, but they are obviously out there," Lina insisted.

"Shannon was scaring everyone!"

"I know, Charlie. Everyone _should_ be afraid. Ethan can't be the only person out there. And if he's any indication, the rest of them are pretty scary people."

"I'm just… I wanted to…" He trailed off, brow furrowed in frustration. Lina layed a hand on his shoulder.

"Trying to protect Claire," she finished his thought. He let out a short breath and nodded.

"I want her to feel safe. Her and Turnip-head."

Lina couldn't help but laugh. "Please, stop calling him that."

He flashed her that adorable sideways smile. Charlie could give any girl a soft spot.

"Pretending that nothing is out there, isn't going to make her safe, Charlie."

"Might make her feel better, though," he said quietly, glancing up through his lashes. She smiled, shaking her head.

"You're too cute for your own good, sometimes, Chuck."

He grinned at her. "Just sometimes?"

She rolled her eyes, and shoved him playfully.

"It's my secret to fame, you know. That, and my amazing voice… _You all, everybody."_

"Oh, no!" Lina groaned, covering her ears.

"_You all, everybody!_"

Shannon was sitting by herself, looking miserable. Lina knew she should leave the woman alone, but she had to know what she saw in the jungle. If anything had happened to that raft… It was eating her up inside, just thinking about the possibilities.

"You saw Walt?"

The other girl looked up at her, eyes filled with malice. She looked aweful. Her skin was blotchy from anger, and her hair was desheveled from her run in the jungle. She was wringing her hands together in a way that suggested she imagined a neck between them. Her lips were stretched so tight across her teeth, they were pencil thin, and white from lack of blood flow. When she didn't answer, Lina repeated her question. Shannon only continued to glare at her.

"Please, tell me, Shannon," she requested, urgently. The blonde looked like she might say something, but apparently, it was too much of an effort. "_Please!"_

"Yes, I saw him in the jungle," she finally answered.

"Was he hurt? Did he say anything?" Lina chewed on the inside of her lip harshly.

"He looked like he was trying to talk, but I couldn't hear him," Shannon informed her. The girl's voice shook slightly, in what sounded like rage.

"Was he hurt?" Lina repeated. Shannon shook her head, tugging her fingers through her hair.

"I couldn't tell, it was dark. But he was soaking wet."

Lina's knees gave out then, and she sank to the ground infront of Shannon. The blonde eyed her warily.

"God… Do you think he fell off the raft?"

Shannon's eyes narrowed. "You believe me?"

"Yes, I believe you," Lina assured her.

"No one else does," the other girl pointed out.

"They might, but if they admit you saw him in the jungle, they have to admit something happened on the raft, and we aren't getting rescued."

Shannon looked like she's just smelled something aweful. Lina knew how she must feel. It was a bitter pill to swallow.

"Don't you want to be rescued, too?" She asked suspiciously. Lina nodded.

"Of course."

"Then, why aren't you in denial, too?"

"One, it's hard to see something in the jungle, and mistake it for a wet 10-year-old boy," Lina told her, as if it were obvious. Shannon continued to looked at her as though she were Rosencrantz.

"And two?" the blonde challenged.

"I don't have the luxury of pretending everything is okay, if there is a good chance it isn't."

"Why not?" Shannon looked at her, as if sizing her up.

"I've got too much invested in the well-being of that raft," Lina said, honestly. Shannon shook her head, as if this was absurd.

"We all want to get off the island, Lea," she said. Lina fought the urge to smirk.

"That's not what I'm talking about. Look, if you want to be the crazy loner, that's fine. It seems to work well for that French lady. I just thought you'd like some help," she told the blonde, standing.

"Help with what?"

"Proving you're not crazy. That you _did_ see Walt out there in the jungle."

Shannon shook her head. "And just how are we supposed to do that?"

"How the Hell should I know?" Lina huffed, exasperated. "but don't you feel like someone should do something?"

"I can't do anything about it, I'm-"

Lina cut her off. "I seem to remember that you're the one who snatched a key of sleeping Jack, stole a gun, chased that crazy old bastard into the jungle, and tried to kill him."

"That was different," Shannon protested. Lina nodded.

"Yeah, it was. But it seems to me that if you put your mind to it, Shannon, you'd be surprised what you're capable of when you get out of your own way."

The girl looked like she wanted to say something. Probably something mean, designed to shut Lina up. She couldn't seem to get anything to come out. Lina sighed, and began to walk away.

"If you figure out what you want to say, Shannon, I'll be around. And my name is Lina, not Lea."


	9. By Association

Well, yeehaw! im back! sorry about the delay, i been a little sick and alot stressed. but im working on the next chappy as we speak so that should be up soon, and i think i might toss in one more before the next new eppy of Lost, so keep your fingers crossed, eh? and thank you for all the wonderful feedback :) you know how i love it., heehee. you guys are great. enjoy!

---------------------------------------------

Lina had never been so happy to see the dawn as she was right now. The Others had not come for them in thie wee hours of the night. Maybe Charlie was right and Danielle was so far off her rocker she may never rock again. She pitied the woman some, though. Atleast she did now that baby Turnip-head (recently Christened, Aaron) was safe and sound. She had wanted to go along with Charlie and Sayid to get the infant back, but Charlie had all but begged her to stay with Claire, and so she had. That didn't stop her from envisioning all manner of ways she might murder the crazy bitch if she hurt one hair on Aaron's vegetable-like head.

Now, however, it was dawn. Aaron was back with his mommy and psuedo-daddy. And the Others had not come. She was shaky with relief at that. Even with the guns, she didn't hold out much hope for their little band of castaways against the Others. Especially, if Ethan was any indication as to what the rest were like. The creepiest part was, she had kind of liked that guy. Before it turned out he was a raving homicidal maniac and kidnapper. Perhaps the crash had injured her upstairs a little bit, leaving her with an impaired sense of perception when it came to other people. That would explain Sawyer.

She felt her stomach fill with ice at the thought. Walt in the jungle, soaking wet. God, the best case scenario of something like that was that he'd fallen off sometime after dark and the others on the raft had not been able to find him, so the current had washed him up on shore. No wonder the kid was running around alone in the trees! That kind of thing would be enough to traumatize anyone. His father was probably a gibbering mess by now, leaving Sawyer and Jin to try to pilot the boat back to shore. That was the very bext case she could come up with. The worst case…. She couldn't even let herself think about.

She, along with most of the rest of the Beachies were groggily toting their things back to the sand. Now that the threat of the Others had passed, they were eager to get back to their make-shift homes and a sense of normalcy. They'd lost a few to the caves; people who no longer felt safe in the wide open space of the shoreline, where the Others could attack from anywhere, including the infinite ocean spread out before them. While Lina had intended to move to the caves herself, last night had put her off the idea. The idea of spending every night in that confined space made her far too claustrophobic. For the time being anyway. Everything she owned was hanging at her side in a small duffle bag, and her GSP (Girl Scout Pack, as named by Sawyer). She had effectively erradicated her tent the night before, taking the whole thing with her to the caves. She'd had by far the most meager existance of all the Beachies; just a tarp she'd snagged, some branches for a frame, a blanket and some clothes.

She wandered along the sandy shanty town, looking for a clear spot to repitch her tent; far enough away from everyone to be comfortable. She just happened to glance up and see Sawyer's pent house up on the hill. There was someone inside. For a split second her heart caught in her throat, before logic came and stamped it down firmly in place. Through the flapping curtain of blue tarp she could make out a figure, and it was not the tall Southerner. She picked up her pace, making a bee-line for the shack, her chest hot with anger.

She reached the hovel and tore the tarp aside. The man inside turned so fast in his surpise that he actually fell on his ass. He looked up at her.

"Christ, you scared me!" he exclaimed. Her eyes narrowed at the mess she saw. Papers and various flotsam and jetsam spread all over the sandy floor of the shanty.

"What do you think you're doing?" she demanded, her voice quiet and icy. The man stood, brushing his pants off. He was slighty taller than her, but not by more than a couple inches. She continued to glare at him.

"Well, Sawyer's on the raft, so its not like he needs this place anymore. I thought I'd just-"

"Well, I guess you thought wrong, didn't you?"

"Look, there's no need to get all upset over it," he assured her. He held out a hand politely. "I'm Steve."

After a moment's hesitation, she took the hand, making her grip as firm as she could without trying to crush his fingers. That could have seemed a desperate attempt to intimidate him. Subtle is much better; less is more and all that.

"Lina," she said, and released him. He shrugged.

"I didn't know you had planned to move in here. If I had, I wouldn't have… you know," he explained. She nodded silently, her eyes not softening a bit.

"Well, now you know. So, if you'll excuse me…" She stepped to the side, holding the tarp back for him, and gestured grandly for him to pass. He left, but she didn't like the way he glanced back over his shoulder when it seemed she wasn't looking. She entered the shack and took stock of her surroundings. What a mess.

As, she cleaned up the debris that littered the ground, she didn't even try to fool herself as to why she had gotten so annoyed at Steve. This was James' tent. Literally, the only thing he had left behind other than a rather tender spot in her chest, and a dimishing ache between her legs. She was actually starting to miss that slight twinge when she moved. How mauldin she had become. Soon, she would start writing bad poetry to his name. Compare thee to a summer's day, and such nonsense._ Thanks a lot, Peaches,_ she sneered in her head.

Once her new lodgings were in order, Lina decided there was no time like the present to see if Shannon had made up her mind. As she made her way back through the beach villiage, she noticed more eyes than normal following her movement. She tried to catch someone's gaze, but whenever she turned, they would look away. The one pair she managed to hold were Sayid's. She headed for where he stood, paused in dragging his big trunk across the sand towards his lean-to.

"Why is everyone staring at me?" she demanded quietly. He half shrugged, letting his burden drop.

"It would seem that Steve has been informing everyone of your confrontation this morning," he told her. "He has made you out to be quite the villian."

"Are you kidding me? All I did was tell him to get lost!" she insisted. A half-smile tugged at the Iraqi man's lips. His eyes were warm and understanding.

"Truth, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder, I'm afraid," he told her, soothingly. "Your friendship with Mr. Sawyer has cast a somewhat ambiguous shadow on your person. As he was distrusted, apparently, so shall you be, because of that association."

"That's bullshit."

That flat statement cause a surprised chuckle to escape him. "Indeed. Unfortunately, there isn't much you can do about it at this time. With last night's scare still fresh in everyone's minds, they are not likely to be easily swayed."

"I could shove my fist down Steve's throat," she offered. Again came the quiet chuckle.

"I don't quite see how that would help your situation." His eyebrows came together at his confusion in a rather endearing way.

"Oh, it won't, but it'll damn sure make me feel better to have them distrust me for _a reason_… like I might break my foot off in one of them at any moment."

This caused a full fledge laugh from the dark man. His eyes still twinkling, he reached out and layed a hand on her arm.

"It will pass," he assured her, and in that lilting accent of his, and the honeyed flow of his voice, she actaully believed it. "Just give them time."

Lina nodded, one side of her mouth turned down reluctantly. She sighed, and shook it off. She had more important things to worry about than the high school politics of one pissy guy.

"Do you know where Shannon is?" she asked. One fine, dark eyebrow lifted slightly in curiosity.

"She is at the caves," Sayid said, bending to pick up the end of his steamer trunk. Lina thanked him, and jogged off into the jungle.


	10. Disparaging Remarks

okay, here's the other chappy i promised. and theres a little surprise in it for everyone who wants to know more about our fair heroine. and no i dont mean the stuff charlie snorts. thnmks for all the feedback :) i loves it, you know ;-)

eck, sorry about the musical cahpters for a minute there. i deleted one by accident instead of replacing it. (i cut a paragraph out of Complex Guy) so i hadda redo them all. sorry.

enjoy :)

----------

Lina made her way through the trees, along the path that was becoming rather well tread, to the caves. Once there, she looked around for the blonde girl. Lina found her sitting by the small water fall, staring into the rippling pool below. She had cleaned herself up some since the night before,a nd changed her clothes. But she still looked rather awful. Her face was drawn, and her eyes were glassy.

"Shannon?" Lina called, quietly, as she approached. The girl barely acknowledge her presence. Lina sank down, rocking back on her heels, to put herself at eye level with the blonde.

"Have you decided?"

"Decided what?" Shannon asked, not looking at her.

"What you want to do about Walt."

"What about him?"

Lina's brow furrowed in the beginnings of a flare of anger. "The fact that you saw him in the jungle last night maybe?" she hissed. Shannon shook her head.

"I must have been imagining-" she began, but Lina cut her off, her voice hard.

"Fuck that, we both know you saw him!"

Shannon then turned buring eyes on her, hot tears shimmering along her lashes. "I didn't see _anything_!" she shouted. Lina was momentarily stunned, but recovered, and opened her mouth to speak. Shannon practically lept to her feet, and rushed out of the caves, Lina hot on her heels.

"Leave me alone!" the blonde called, over her shoulder. Lina grunted, jogging a moment to catch her, and took hold of the woman's arm.

"Look, I know you're upset because no one believes you, but goddamit, you can't just pretend it didn't happen! Walt could be hurt out there in the jungle! Don't you care about that!"

Shannon hiccuped and sniffled once and then broke down into hiccuping sobs. She fell to her knees, and bent forward, blonde hair falling around her face. Lina sighed, and knelt beside the crying girl, rubbing her shoulders soothingly. Tactile reassurance was not her strong point. Indeed, she wasn't a huge fan of any kind of intimate physical contact; hugging and the like. She seemed to be doing it more and more, though. In fact, she'd had to actually hold Claire in her arms for most of the time Charlie was gone looking for Aaron, which had made her feel slightly creepy, and woefully inadequet. Living in such close proximity with people on this island was beginning to change her, she decided. Slowly, but surely. Next thing you know, she'd be part of a group hug. She fought back a shudder at that thought. It wouldn't do to have Shannon feel she was disgusting Lina while she was trying to comfort the blonde.

"I _do_ care," Shannon insisted, when she had calmed down enough to speak again. She sniffled, and wiped at her eyes. Lina handed her a rag from her GSP to blow her nose with. "I just, don't want everyone to think I'm insane. You heard what Charlie said last night."

Lina nodded, her hand still on the upset girl's shoulder. "Yes, but Charlie is more worried about Claire getting uspet than about what you might have seen in the jungle."

"Sayid doesn't believe me either," she pressed, looking extremely forlorn over the idea. Lina felt sorry for the girl. She knew what it was like for everyont to think you're out of your mind. Her whole family, almost, had treated her that way when she'd told them their faith was not for her.

"No one believed Claire when she said someone was attacking her, remember?" Lina reminded Shannon.

"Charlie believed her," Shannon said, in an almost accusatory tone. Lina sighed.

"Well, I believe you. I know I don't count as much as Sayid, but still. Atleast, its something."

Shannon nodded. Not looking like it actually counted as anything at all. Lina tried not to be offended. She helped the blone to her feet.

"Maybe we can find something that will help Sayid believe you," she offered. Shannon looked wary at the thought.

"Like what?"

As if in answer to the question, Claire came hurrying up the path to the caves, on which they stood., holding the baby in the crook of one arm.

"Lina! I've been looking for you. There's something I need to show you," she said, her voice nearing panic. Lina held up her hands haltingly.

"Whoa, hang on, Claire. Breathe… breathe," she commanded. The Aussie girl glowered at her impatiently.

"Look!" she demanded, thrusting out her free hand. Lina took a moment to register what she was seeing. A green bottle. Full of papers. She slowly took it from her friend. A wine bottle.

"Is that everyone's letters?" Shannon asked. Claire looked at her, as if startled by her presence; like she hadn't realized the other girl was there. She nodded.

"I was walking along the beach, and it washed up on shore." Lina was turning the bottle over and over in her hands. "What should we do?"

"Huh?"

"Lina!" Claire said, sharply. The brunette snapped out of her revery. "What should we do?"

"I… I don't know," she stammered. It was true. This was proof that something might have gone terribly wrong with the raft. Something terribly wrong with Sawyer. She felt faint, having something so tangible in her hands like this. It was too real, so real it felt surreal. Which is really, very real. She wanted to chuck the bottle back into the sea and hope it sank straight to the bottom, that way she could pretend that she'd never seen it, and the awful knot in her stomach would go away. Shannon reached for the bottle, and Lina let it go, wiping her fingers on her shorts, trying to wipe the truth of the bottle away.

"I think we should show it to everyone," Shannon said. "They deserve to know."

Lina's head cleared instantly at that statement. Something in the tone of Shannon's voice. She shook her head emphatically.

"No, I don't think we should," she said. The two blondes looked at her confused. "I think everyone has a lot of hope invested in that raft, and this could have just fallen over board. There could be a million reasons for it to have ended up in the water."

"You really believe that?" Claire asked, her eyes clear and full of compassion. Lina held her gaze for a moment.

"No, I don't, but that doesn't mean I'm right in not beliving it," she insisted.

"Then, why don't we tell everyone about it, and let them make up their own minds?" Shannon asked, impatiently. Lina shook her head.

"I don't think that's a good idea. Especially after last night," she told the woman. "What do you think we should do with it, Claire?"

The little mother looked taken aback. "I don't think I should be the one to decide. You've got a lot more to worry about on the raft than I do."

"What do you mean by that?" Shannon asked, her brow furrowing. Lina shook her head. "If anyone, Sun is the person with everything riding on the welfare of the raft."

Lina latched onto that notion. "You're right," she said. "We'll take it to Sun, and let her decide what to do with it. It's her husband on that thing. Not yours or mine."

"But-" Claire began to protest. Lina layed a hand on her shoulder to silence the woman, shaking her head once. Then, she turned, and lead the way towards Sun's garden, leaving bits of her ever-crumbling hope along the pathway as she went.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The line of people wound all around the book shop, and continued out onto the sidewalk for nearly three-hundred feet. Who knows what that is in meters? Its probably a lot, too.At the head of the line, sat a small, particle board table and a big cardboard display featuring cover art for the book: _Darkest Offering._ The fans waited eagerly for their turn with the author, who was very humble, and gracious, and delighted to take a moment to talk to each of them.

Lina waited eagerly for the line to move forward. She clutched the pen tightly in her hand, and could not contain the grin that spread from ear to ear. What a dream come true! _Darkest Offering_ (which was the story of Lucifer and the human woman he fell in love with, which lead to Armageddon), had not done very well in the states, but it had exploded in Australia. So, in order to make it to the signing, she'd had to hop on a plane, which she hated, and zoom all the way from Alaska to Los Angeles, and finally Syndey. But it was so worth the trip. She didn't think she could be any happier than she was at this moment.

Another fan moved to the table, and handed off his book. He was in his mid-thirties, it looked. Wearing a suit, of all things; blue with pinstripes. She wondered if he was on his lunch break. His black hair was slicked back, and he looked very dapper, indeed.

"Who should I make it out to?" Lina asked, smiling up at him. He only half smiled back, his eyes dark. The look made her slightly uncomfortable, and she was glad, suddenly, that she only had to speak with him for a moment.

"Jezebel," he said. She smiled, and laughed quietly.

"Nice name," she said. "Is that your wife?"

He nodded. Then asked, "How did you come up with the plot?"

She shrugged, bobbing her head to one side. "It just came to me one day. What if Satan fell in love with a woman? What that would mean for Revelations and all that."

He nodded again, his eyes seemed to harden somehow. "I see."

She finished signing and handed him the book back, and offered her hand for him to shake. He took it firmly, and his color seemed to rise at her touch. An angry, red blush covered his face and neck, and he suddenly squeezed her hand painfully. She felt her knuckles rub together. She opened her mouth to protest, tugging at his grip, when he reached into his jacket and pulled out something that glinted in the flourescent light of the shop. Her protest caught in her throat, and she choked on it, as his arm came towards her.

"In the name of God!" he shouted. She yanked backwards with all her wieght, kicking out her legs for more leverage. Her chair toppeld over backwards and her feet hit the table, flipping it towards him. He did not let go, but was pulled back with her as she went down, sprawling over the edge of the wood.

The guards jumped to action, pulling the crazed man off her. He continued to shout and struggle towards her as they attempted to subdue him. "She's evil! Satan's whore! A witch! A black, dirty thing! Whore! Evil!"

Several of her non-homicidal fans rushed forward, helping pull the man away and helping her to her feet. She was shaking, and could barely stand. Lorne Bacchus, her agent, had been speaking with a news crew off ot the side about footage they planned to take of her and a small interview after the signing. He hurried her out of the store, past the news crew (who had somehow managed to get their camera up and going). He lead her past all the waiitng fans, out the front door, where another news crew was shooting footage of the fans lined up outside.

Lorne pushed her gently into the waiting limo, which had been parked out front since she'd arrived in it. When the fans began to protest loudly, Lorne held up a hand to silence them.

"Ms. Panevino has just been attacked by a deranged man. She apologizes for any disappointment, and-"

"Lorne!" she shouted from inside the limo. "I just want to get the fuck out of here!"

Without another word he slid into the car, and told the driver to take them to the hotel.

"That's right the hotel. And then I'm getting the fuck out of this country," she said, her voice shaking.

"Lina, be reasonable. I don't think that, with what just happened, you should be getting on a cramped airliner for twelve hours," he said soothingly. He was probably right, but she didn't care. She was going home. Now.

"He called me evil, Lorne."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sun was on all fours, digging in the garden as usual, when the three other women approached. Lina could not bring herself to speak.

"Hi, Sun," Claire said quietly. The Korean woman stood, a smile flashing on her face, but fading as she took in the serious expressions of the other three.

"What's wrong?" she asked, walking towards them, brushing the drit from her hands. Claire shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, bouncing her infant distractedly.

"I, um… I found something, out in the water," she said. "And I told Lina and Shannon about it… and, you kn-…we thought you should know."

Claire glanced back over her shoulder at Shannon, how after a moment's hesitation, reluctantly proferred the bottle. Sun gazed at it silently.

"It's the messages, from the raft," Shannon explained.Sun took the bottle. Lina felt her chest squeezing at the look of fear in the older woman's eyes as she looked from one to the other of them.

"We thought," Claire informed her. "That you should decide what to do."

Leaving Sun with the weight of the decision on her shoulders made Lina feel more guilty than she ever had in her life. She could not, not matter how much she tried, turn back and offer her support in the matter. She mentally berated herself for her cowardice as she walked aimlessly through the jungle. She was not watching where she was going when she suddenly heard a frantic, "Hey! Look out!"

She stopped in her tracks, and saw Hurley not two feet away from her. Wow, she must really have been out of it not to hear him trundling through the underbrush. Not the least reason for which, was that he tended to converse with himself when it seemed no one was around. He looked white as a ghost.

"Are you okay?" Lina asked, tilting her head to the side. He nodded.

"I'm good… I just.. you know..didn't want to run into you," he said. The shaky quality of his voice told her there was something amiss, but, while Hurely was a terrible liar, she didn't have the slightest clue what he was lying about.

"What's wrong, Hurley?" she quieried. He opened his mouth, lifting his hands as if to tell her nothing was wrong, but stopped. She was giving him The Eye; the you-better-not-think-of-bull-shitting-me-cause-I-see-through-you-like-a-greasy-hamburger-wrapper eye.

"You know that, uh, hatch?" he asked. She shrugged.

"Not really, but go on."

"You don't know?" he asked, surprised. She shook her head.

"No, I've got better things to worry about than Jack and Locke and you and kate playing in a hole in the dirt."

He looked at her like she was crazy. "You wouldn't say that if you'd seen it, man," he informed her. She rolled her eyes.

"Well, I haven't seen it. What about it has you so upset?"

He shook his head. "They put me in charge of then.. uh…"

He glaced around, to make sure they were alone. Lina lifted an eyebrow.

"They put me in charge of the food," he continued in a whisper. Linahad soe many questions at that statement, she had trouble settling on one.

"And… why is that bad?"

"Because I don't want to do it!" he shouted. Lina lifted a hand in defense.

"Okay okay, jeez!"

"Sorry," he said, blushing.

"If it upsets you that much.. just don't do it. I'm sure they can find someone else, Hurley."

He nodded, his eyes suddenly far off, as if his mind were somewhere else. "Hey, Lina?"

"Yeah?"

"I like you," he said, suddenly looking her square in the eye. "You're a good friend."

She smiled, confusedly, and tilted her head to one side. "You're a good friend, too, Hurley."

He gave her a quick half smile, before heading off into the jungle, rather slowly and carefully. She watched him go for a minute, wondering what he was going to tell Jack, and then changed her direction, and headed for the beach.

Some time later, she emerged from her new shack, intent on finding a quiet place, a bit away from camp, where she could clean herself up in the ocean. The sun was setting, so it would be completely dark in a matter of moments. Thus, she could bathe in peace. She was constantly worried about someone accidentally coming upon her while she was washing, being that she was too paranoid about sharks and jelly fish and other nasty things to venture out deeper than her thighs.

She passed Jack, offering a polite nod of acknowledgement. She waved to Charlie and Claire. As she passed a group of people sitting around a fire, she noticed they suddenly fell silent, and all their eyes were upon her. She stopped and looked from one to the next, realizing that Steve was among them. She stalked over to where he sat.

"What is your problem with me?" she demanded. So much for subtlety. He stood, and sqared off with her.

He expounded with arms thrown wide. "You barely speak to anyone, but that asshole who stole everyone's things. Then, you take over his stash when he leaves. Do you expect us cow to you like you're the boss?"

"Cow to me?" she scoffed. "I'm friends with the guy, and I moved into his tent when he left. What's wrong with that?"

"Where's all the stuff he stole?" Steve demanded. Lina held up her empty hands.

"There isn't anything. He gave it all away before he left, remember? Jack has everything, not me, dumbass!"

Steve's face colored in the fading like, the angry blush almost concealed by the fire dancing off his skin.

"You're up to something," he accused. "I've seen you."

"Seen me _what_?" Lina demanded.

"Out in the jungle with that guy, Hurley. I saw you two. You're all up to something with that thing out there, aren't you? What is it? What's in there?" His voice rose louder with every accusing question, a sneer distorted his face.

"I don't fucking know! I've never been out there!" she shouted at him, wanting nothing more than to pile all her frustration and anger from everything that had happened the last two days right on him. She wanted to tear his freaking head off.

"Then, what were you doing in the jungle?" one of Steve's campfire-mates piped up. She glared down at the woman.

"Going for a walk, is that a crime?"

Steve gave a increadulous snort. She turned back to face him, and contemplated fully for a moment what would happen if she just shoved him into the fire. Luckily, she never had the chance to find out. Suddenly, Jack was there, all diplomacy and "hey, come on guys." Hurley was there too, and took her by the hand, leading her away. She dragged her feet, fuming back over her shoulder at Steve, whom Jack was scolding for starting rumors. She tried to tug her hand free of Hurley's, but he held fast, stopping to look back at her.

"I need your help with something, okay?" he told her. She fought with herself, trying to hold onto the urge to go back and set Steve ablaze, but in the end reason won out over crazy-talk, and she followed Hurely towards the hatch. Whatever the fuck a hatch was anyway.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"No, Lorne, I'm leaving. I don't care if I never sell another book on this whole freaking continent again! I'm so outta here, you wont even be able to see me for the dust in my wake, got it?" she fumed, storming about her hotel room, tossing clothes and various rick rack into her suitcase. The man huffed quietly, sulking in the middle of her one-woman whirlwind.

"You're sure I can't change your mind, Lina?" he asked, plaintively. She stopped, and looked at him silently, in a way that he instinctively knew meant to let it go. He sighed. Alright. I'll change your plane ticket then, and arrange for someone to pick you up in LA."

He took out his Blackberry and started beeping and booping away unhappily. It only took her a few minutes to finish packing. She stood infront of him, tapping her toe impatiently as he worked on her flight plan. She picked up her bags and headed for the door.

"I'm going to the airport, call me when you get a flight," she called over her shoulder, leaving him alone in her disheveled hotel room. She waived off the bellboy in the lobby when he tried to help her with her bag, and hurried out to her limo, which she had insisted wait there for her, despite Lorne's protesting.

"Leaving us, Miss Panevino?" the driver, a young man named David, asked. She nodded, pulling open the door herself.

"As fast as my legs can carry me," she said sharply. Glancing over she noticed a young man with mussed blonde hair, and a blue and white striped shirt under a grey hoody, staring at her limo longingly. She huffed, slipping into the car and slamming the door.

"Trust me, guy, it ain't all this cracked up to be," she muttered. About ten minutes later, Lorne called her cellphone, and let her know her information.

"Flight 815, straight to LA. But, you're not in first class," he warned. She knew he was hoping that might sway her, but honestly, being in coach for the next _week _couldn't make her stay in Australia one second longer than she needed to. Nothing could be worse than what had happened to her that day.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the pantry, Lina stuffed things into the dufflebag Hurley had given her. She was doing so blindly, not noticing what she put in the bag. She took a few Apollo bars out of the canister on top, and then pushed it aside to get at whatever was behind it. She stopped. There were three boxes, each a different flavor, of individually wrapped, hermetically sealed, generic fruit pies. She reached for the middle box, and prayed silently.

_It had rained that morning, and the air was sticky and humid, though the wind off the ocean provided some comfort. Sawyer was napping beside her, in his customary way, and Lina was readng his water warped copy of Moby Dick. A group of about three people, all women, walked past them, imbroiled deeply in conversation._

"_Chocolate, that's all I want," one said. The others laughed._

"_Yes," the shortest of the group conceded. "But, everyone misses chocolate. If you could have one thing, what _else _would it be?"_

"_More chocolate," the first woman said simply. Their voices fading out as they walked on._

"_You know what I'd like?" Sawyer piped up suddenly, startling Lina. She slapped at his arm with the book, but he remained unaffected._

"_What?" she asked. He smiled, his eyes still closed, and licked his lips._

"_Apple pie," he said grandly. She giggled at him, causing him to crack one eye open. "That's funny?"_

"_Not in itself… its just such a Southern thing to say," she explained. He smirked._

"_Okay, then, Miss Refinement," he drawled. "What would you want?"_

_She took a breathe, thought a moment, and finally said, "Something really bad for me… full of additives and preservatives and nitrates. And MEAT," she said the last with a dramatic growl. "Probably hotdogs… mmmmm."_

_He laughed at her, and she amired how it sounded, so light and free, as if for that moment he'd forgotten to hate himself and everyone else._

Back at the beach, she walked among the campfires, silently handing out goodies, as if she were Kris Kringle's little sister. Everyone smiled, and thanked her, and there was much talking and laughter to be heard in the camp that night. When she came upon Steve, he glaced at her before dropping his gaze sheepishly to the sand.

She silently held out a crinkling bag of potato chips. He reached for it, and she barely overcame the urge to drop it just out of his grasp. As she walked away she sighed, there was no point to perpetuating bad blood. Especially on the island.

After a good portion of the food was handed out, Hurley and Lina joined Charlie and Claire at their campfire. And for a time, they forgot they were trapped in the middle of nowhere, and just enjoyed a nice campfire and pleasant company. Even if Charlie did smear peanut butter across Hurley's cheek. It was good.


End file.
